FRANCES. [_Clinging to him as he beats the air._] Not you. She's dead, poor girl ... but not you. TREBELL. Yes ... that's the mystery no one need believe till he has dipped in it. The man bears the child in his soul as the woman carries it in her body. _There is silence between them, till she speaks low and tonelessly, never loosing his hand._ FRANCES. Henry, I want your promise that you'll go on living till ... till.... TREBELL. Don't cry, Fanny, that's very foolish. FRANCES. Till you've learnt to look at all this calmly. Then I can trust you. TREBELL _smiles, not at all grimly._ TREBELL. But, you see, it would give Horsham and Blackborough such a shock if I shot myself ... it would make them think about things. FRANCES. [_With one catch of wretched laughter._] Oh, my dear, if shooting's wanted ... shoot them. Or I'll do it for you. _He sits in his chair just from weariness. She stands by him, her hand still grasping his._ TREBELL. You see, Fanny, as I said to Gilbert last night ... our lives are our own and yet not our own. We understand living for others and dying for others. The first is easy ... it's a way out of boredom. To make the second popular we had to invent a belief in personal resurrection. Do you think we shall ever understand dying in the sure and certain hope that it really doesn't matter ... that God is infinitely economical and wastes perhaps less of the power in us after our death than men do while we live? FRANCES. I want your promise, Henry. TREBELL. You know I never make promises ... it's taking oneself too seriously. Unless indeed one has the comic courage to break them too. I've upset you very much with my troubles. Don't you think you'd better go and finish dressing? [_She doesn't move._] My dear ... you don't propose to hold my right hand so safely for years to come. Even so, I still could jump out of a window. FRANCES. I'll trust you, Henry. _She looks into his eyes and he does not flinch. Then, with a final grip she leaves him. When she is at the door he speaks more gently than ever._ TREBELL. Your own life is sufficient unto itself, isn't it? FRANCES. Oh yes. I can be pleasant to talk to and give good advice through the years that remain. [_Instinctively she rectifies some little untidiness in the room._] What fools they are to think they can run that government without you! TREBELL. Horsham will do his best. [_Then, as for the second time she reaches the door._] Don't take away my razors, will you? I only use them for shaving. FRANCES. [_Almost blushing._] I half meant to ... I'm sorry. After all, Henry, just because they are forgetting in personal feelings what's best for the country ... it's your duty not to. You'll stand by and do what you can, won't you? TREBELL. [_His queer smile returning, in contrast to her seriousness._] Disestablishment. It's a very interesting problem. I must think it out. FRANCES. [_Really puzzled._] What do you mean?